McClane, Short and Unsweet
by VictorianChik
Summary: Post-Live Free or Die Hard! In short scenes, McClane re-establishes his relationship with Lucy and Matt, becoming the mentor/father-figure he never thought he could be.
1. Recliner

Disclaimer: I do not won.

--

It was raining again, the drops of water sliding down the glass pane. John McClane watched the rain, silent and still. His wounds had healed – healed enough for him to walk without limping.

His house was quiet, a small house meant for a man with no family, few friends that visited. He kept the other bedroom ready, the door always open, in the chance that Lucy might visit and stay longer than she meant to, and he would persuade her to spend the night.He kept thinking that if she just spent one night at his house, awoke in the morning and came to the table, still in her pajamas with tousled hair, and he got breakfast for them and they ate while reading the newspaper – that would change everything between them forever.

No more fights, no more angry words over the phone, no more ignored calls, deleted messages. They would be father and daughter again, a real father and daughter.

McClane walked into the living room to watch TV, the news and maybe a sports game.

He had located the remote and moved towards his old recliner when a knock sounded on the door.

McClane hesitated. He hoped it was Lucy, but the knock was too timid, too unsure for Lucy. And anyone else would have called first. You just didn't come to a cop's house unannounced.

McClane reached for his gun as he slowly eased towards the door. His feet barely making a sound, he reached the door and looked through the peephole.

Swearing, he unlocked the door and jerked it open.

"Farrell!"

Matt Farrell jumped at his loud voice, nearly dropping the stuffed backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Oh, hey, McC-C-Clane," Matt stuttered, seeing the gun. "I was in the neighborhood, not doing much, and remember I knew your address and thought since I was here, it wasn't that much farther, and even if it was, it's a nice night for walking though some people take buses but I've been working out so I thought I'd walk, but I did take the train here, so you know it wasn't the whole –"

"Hey!" McClane interrupted, his voice sharp, "Stop talking."

"Okay," Matt nodded, breathing in and out slowly.

"What are you doing here?" McClane asked, emphasizing every word.

"Just stopped by to say hi."

McClane shot him a hard look, and Matt shifted before admitting,

"Okay, as you know, my place was kind of torn up, and I've been having trouble finding a place to stay. I went to stay with the Warlock for a while, but his mom thinks he had a hand in saving the world and she wants him to get a real job. They were fighting so much . . . I had to get out."

"And?" McClane crossed his arms.

Matt swallowed. "I went to the security guy we met and asked if he had a job, and he said I would be good at Homeland Security stuff, so I filled out a lot of forms, but it doesn't start until next week, and I kind of need a place to stay. I'll be training to do tech stuff, nothing really cool like we did, but it's still security. Gotta help the country, right, save all the people anyway we can?"

Matt looked hopeful, but McClane stood stoically, refusing the answered the unasked question. He didn't believe the kid had the balls to ask him out right, not in a hundred, million years –

"Can I stay here?" Matt blurted out.


	2. Backpack

Disclaimer: I do not own.

AN: I know it says more than 600 words, but my computer doesn't count hyphenated words at two so the word count on my computer said 600 and that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

--

McClane stepped back, his teeth grinding. "What do you think I'm going to say?"

"Oh, come on," Matt suddenly looked ten years younger. "After all we went through –"

"Yeah, I remember," McClane retorted. "The arguing, the pouting, the slowing me down. Even if we were heroes, that was then, this is now, and I live alone."

"I'm not moving in," Matt protested. "I mean, how gay would that be?"

"About as gay as living in another guy's basement," McClane pointed out. That really had nothing to do with Matt's request, but it felt good to rub Matt's misery in his face.

"The Warlock and I were best friends."

"Yeah, at space camp."

"It was computer camp! And it was really cool and computer geeks make all the money these days, so ha!"

"Yeah, then they end up at ex-policemen's houses, begging for a place to stay."

"Hey, I'm not begging," Matt held up his hands. "I just thought iI could crash here for a while, and that way Lucy wouldn't have to make two separate trips to see both of us –"

"Lucy!" McClane thundered. "What does my daughter have to do with anything?"

"Because we're kind of together but she said you were cool with it and I just realized that she never told you," Matt stepped back as in fear at McClane's murderous expression. Matt gave a weak laugh, "Ha-ha, I thought you were acting pretty calm, especially because I thought you'd tear my head off, but I guess you didn't know."

"You're with Lucy?" McClane's voice whispered ominously. "My daughter – you've been with –"

"Oh, no-no-no," Matt hastily shook his head, his hands raised. "We haven't done anything yet. We've kind of kissed and she let me get to second base and I don't know why I'm telling you this because I don't want to die and if I start running now will you give me a head's start before hunting me down and killing me?"

Snarling, McClane shot one hand out to clamp down on Matt's shoulder. With police expertise, McClane found the nerve at the bottom of Matt's neck and dug his fingers in.

"Ah-ah!" Matt sank down a few inches. "Ow, please stop."

"Get inside," McClane pulled Matt in and shut the door behind him. It was ridiculously easy to march Matt into the living room and plant him down on the sofa.

The moment Matt's rear hit the cushions, he clutched his backpack to his chest for protection, stammering, "I – I have a cellphone somewhere in here, and I can call someone and if I don't show up to the security place next week someone will look for me. Maybe not right away, but after a month or two, they'll – they'll get very suspicious."

"Jeez, you'd make a lousy hostage," McClane shook his head. "How have you managed to keep yourself alive for this long? You're too stupid to do anything besides collect dolls and play on the computer."

Matt straightened indignantly. "I didn't come here to be insulted. I'm going and –"

"Sit down," McClane shoved him back down. "You're going to sit there and answer my questions about Lucy or I'll take you to the back room, beat you, and then bring you back here for more questions."

Matt squinted, confused. "There's only the two of us. Why take me to the back room? Why not do it here?"

"Because beating always takes place in a back room," the older man growled. "Welcome to interrogation, McClane style."


	3. Phone

Disclaimer: I do not own.

--

McClane stared down at the young man and wondered what would happen if Matt showed up to work half-beaten to death. "So you want to – to date my daughter? You want to take the thing most precious to me and ruin it?"

"Not like that," Matt protested. "She likes me, and I like her, but I'm not going to ruin her. Nothing could ruin Lucy – she's pretty and fun and man, when we kiss, it's like –"

"Finish the sentence and die," McClane growled.

"We're just dating – nothing more," Matt protested.

"That's too much as it is," McClane argued. He grabbed the front of the kid's shirt, pulling him to his feet.

"Oh, come on, man, I was just kidding. I not going to try anything – Lucy would kick my ass if I went too far . . ."

Matt stared at McClane, scared and wide-eyed, looking about two seconds from peeing himself in terror.

McClane searched the young man's face and then stepped back and began marching down the hall, pulling Matt by the front of his shirt.

"Oh, no, man," Matt pleaded. "Don't really beat me. I'll go!"

"Shut up," McClane ordered. He pulled the kid into the spare bedroom and pushed him so hard that Matt stumbled back to sit on the bed.

"You got five minutes," McClane ordered. "Get into whatever superhero pajamas you wear and get into bed. I'll be back."

Matt opened his mouth, probably to protest that it was too early. But he nodded, and McClane stomped out the door and shut it.

He glanced at his watch: 8:35. Yeah, it was early, but he was damned if he was going to let Matt hang out and watch TV with him. The kid wanted a place to sleep – fine. But they weren't getting all buddy-buddy.

Five minutes ended; McClane barged back in the bedroom without knocking. Matt sat on the bed in a tee shirt and boxers, but McClane held his hand out, demanding,

"Your phone."

Matt reached into his backpack and handed him his cellphone.

McClane scrolled down to the right number. The line rang twice.

"Hey, Matt."

"Hey, Lucy," McClane said into the phone.

Matt made a movement to stand, but McClane snapped his fingers, and Matt froze.

"Dad?" Lucy sounded incredulous. "Dad, why do you have –"

"Matt's phone? Oh, well, he stopped by, and we had a little chat," McClane told her.

"What did you do to him?" Lucy demanded. "Dad, if you hurt him, I swear I'll –"

"He's not hurt . . . yet," McClane gave Matt a side glance. "But he told me some interesting news about the two of you. And he was under the impression that I knew about it."

Silence came from the other end of the phone.

"Lucy?" McClane was deep and stern.

"I know how you are and how you get about the guys I like," Lucy protested. "If I told you, you would have hunted Matt down and beat him up."

"Well, he found me. He wants to stay here because his computer friend kicked him out."

"I chose to leave the Warlock," Matt objected. "I could have stayed."

"Let him stay there tonight," Lucy asked. "Tomorrow, he can come stay with me."

"Over my dead body," McClane gripped the phone tighter.

"Dad," Lucy sighed, "we're moving in together once I'm done with school. He told you that, right?"

"No," McClane looked down at Matt ominously, "he didn't."

Before she could speak, McClane hung up the phone and turned to Matt, ready to break the phone over the kid's head.


	4. Ice

AN: All right, this chapter breaks the rules because it's longer than 600 words. I just wanted to write out a complete scene and so it's 2000 words. Sorry, minimalists, I can't write short. As for my other stories, I promise to work on them. I've moved, school is under way, and my thesis proposal is almost done.

Disclaimer: I do not own. And I hope they make another movie with both guys in it.

--

"Ah, ah, aahh!" Matt cried, his face half-smashed into the mattress. "Come on, man, stop!"

McClane said nothing, just tilted Matt's wrist half an inch up, putting more pressure on the young man's shoulder.

"Please," Matt nearly screamed. He couldn't move, and having his arm twisted and pulled backwards was killing him. One minute he had been looking up at a furious McClane, and the next he had been flung face down on the bed and the older man had shoved one hard hand on the middle of Matt's back while the other hand grabbed Matt's wrist and twisted his arm up behind him.

"You think you're going to move in with my daughter?" McClane bellowed, not loosening his hold. "Over my dead body – and believe me, people who have tried to do things over my dead body have ended up dead themselves."

"You're killing me," Matt protested, his face a tight grimace against the pain.

"Now, over _your_ dead body would be just fine with me," McClane raised the wrist he held captive up another milligram, and Matt cried out.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," he begged. "Please, I can't take it any longer. I'll do anything – anything! Ow, ow! I'm telling Lucy if you don't stop!"

McClane looked down at the kid with murderous eyes. "You picked the wrong guy to blackmail, kid. Save good-bye to this arm."

He wasn't really going to break it, or at least McClane felt pretty sure he wouldn't, but Matt broke out into cold sweat and wailed,

"No, don't. Please!" And then he buried his face in the pillow.

McClane abruptly dropped his arm, and Matt pulled it close to his chest, moaning and whimpering as he cradled the throbbing limb.

Sneering and disgusted, McClane reached forward to smack the kid on the top of the head. Matt yelped, but the sound only spurred McClane into action. He popped his hand on the kid's head again before smacking him on the shoulders, the waist, back up to the shoulders, then the head again – anything McClane could reach.

Matt responded by wailing again and pulling his arms up to cover his head. "Stop hitting me," his muffled voice demanded.

"You should be glad I'm not taking my belt to you," McClane growled as he kept whacking the boy, not hard enough to bruise him, just enough to make him worry about what McClane might do next. "The first time I saw you, I thought 'There's boy who needs a good beating.' Smart-mouth, rude, jackass punk."

McClane landed an open-palmed swat on the back of Matt's head one last time, and Matt raised hurt brown eyes up.

"I thought we had an understanding. You saved my life and I helped you and we both got shot and we both care about Lucy. Don't you want her to be someone who really cares about her?"

McClane snarled, and Matt ducked his head under his arms again.

"That's just it," McClane pointed out. "Look at you, hiding all scared. My daughter needs a man who can protect her, not some chess club reject who cries when playing with his dolls."

"I don't cry about my dolls – no, they're not dolls. They're collectables."

"Lucy doesn't date guys with dolls," McClane insisted. "I want her with a guy who I can trust, one who's going to protect her when I'm not there."

"I can be that guy," Matt urged as he sat up straight. "I'm ready to protect her."

"You're not right," McClane shook his head. "Thin, scruffy, shaggy, rude –"

"I'll gain weight, shave, and get a haircut. And I'll stop being rude – I promise."

"You remember when I first met you?" McClane reminded him. "I told you I was cop, and you lied to me. And then when I came in, you stalled before trying to run. Not to mention I was there because you were hacking computers!"

"But I can change," Matt declared.

"Really? Have you been working out at the gym?" McClane crossed his arms. "What good are you if you can't run up a few flights of stairs?"

Matt dropped his eyes down, a shadow over his face.

"You're wrong for her," McClane decided. He stepped away from the bed and took a few steps towards the door. His sharp instinct made him whirl around just in time to see Matt rushing at him, the kid's face a mixture of determination and rage. Before McClane could think, he whipped his arm out and thrust it at the boy, sending Matt sprawling across the small room.

Matt fell, striking his head on the corner of the short bureau. As McClane watched him fall, almost in slow motion, the man's one thought was that Lucy would kill him.

Matt tumbled to the floor and began crying out in pain immediately, clutching his hands to the side of his face.

McClane was beside him in a split second. "Kid, kid, let me see – are you bleeding?"

Matt tried to turn away, but McClane rolled him over to see the damage. Thankfully, there was no blood, but an ugly red mark marked the side of Matt's left face, from his hairline down to his jaw. It was swelling and would be an ugly bruise if left alone.

"Kitchen," McClane ordered. "I'm going to get some ice."

"No," Matt moaned, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying. "Leave me alone – let me go."

"Come on, kid, up you go," McClane ignored his protests and scooped his arm under Matt's shoulder to help him stand. "Kitchen. No, don't touch it – it will only hurt more."

He began leading Matt down the hall, worried about how dazed the young man looked. Head wounds could be serious, and McClane wondered if he should call 911.

"Why – why did you hit me?" Matt asked as he was guided into the small kitchen and into a chair.

"You ran at me," McClane opened the freezer and began digging out ice.

"I thought you would think I was brave and could take care of Lucy," Matt blinked, his eyes glazed with pain.

"Don't ever run at a cop," McClane told him, wrapping the ice in a clean hand towel. He reached out to press the ice against Matt's face, but the kid pulled his head back.

"No, it hurts."

"I have to get ice on it. Stop struggling. Sit still. Matthew Farrell, sit still."

Matt kept trying to shy away, and McClane lost patience. He grabbed the kid's right ear and turned his head so he could press the ice again Matt's left side.

"Ow, it hurts!"

"Quiet down," McClane ordered. "Take it like a man."

"You're the one that pushed me," Matt said, but he did his best to stay still even though the hard, cold ice hurt quite a bit.

"We need to keep it cold for a while," McClane ignored the accusation. "I'm pretty sure you don't have a concussion, but I'll wake you up every few hours to make sure. I'm going to get some ibuprofen for you. Hold this," he grabbed Matt's hand and pushed it against the make-do ice pack, "against your face until I get back. Take it off, and it'll be trouble."

He left Matt sitting in the kitchen and went to the medicine cabinet to get the pills. He had proscriptions for stronger drugs, medicine for his own gun wound that would take away all the pain and make him sleep for hours. McClane briefly considered slipping Matt one of those pills – the kid would doze off in minutes and if Lucy came, McClane could tell her Matt was already asleep.

Sighing, McClane took the ibuprofen down from the shelf, assuring himself that Matt was tired enough to go to sleep and there was no need to start drugging the kids just yet.

Stepping into the kitchen, he saw Matt holding the ice a few inches from his face. Matt hastily put the ice against his face, trying not to look guilty and failing completely. McClane gave him a stern look before getting water and glass. Popping off the top of the plastic bottle, he shook three of the brown pills into Matt's hand. It was rather endearing to see how much the kid trusted him – Matt didn't even look at the pills before putting them in his mouth and gulping down the water.

"You always take pills without looking to see what they are?"

"You have the bottle right there and it says ibuprofen," Matt pointed out.

"I could have filled it with poison," McClane retorted. He felt a little better when Matt looked scared. "You have to think about these things. Okay give me the ice. Yeah, it's going to bruise. At least your hair covers most of it. Tomorrow, haircut first thing. Have you eaten anything?"

Matt shook his head the tiniest bit, and McClane huffed impatiently.

"You shouldn't take those pills on an empty stomach. You really are a helpless idiot."

After getting Matt to press the ice on again, McClane got out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Not the fanciest of meals, but McClane did not have much food on hand and he thought a peanut butter sandwich would be better than nothing.

Matt made no comment about the food; he ate hungrily, wincing slightly while he chewed but kept the ice up. He drank all the water left in the glass and then sat, blankly staring at the wall.

"Bed," McClane directed. "You want to brush your teeth first?"

"Oh, yeah," Matt stood slowly. "Guess I should."

"Have to remind him to brush his teeth – it's like raising Jack all over again," McClane grumbled.

A few minutes later, Matt was back in bed, this time under the covers and leaning back against the pillows. He looked exhausted, and McClane briefly wondered if the kid had gotten any sleep since he had been shot. Even after the pain stopped, the nightmares lingered.

McClane opened his mouth to tell the kid to go to sleep when he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

"Wait here," McClane ordered as he stepped into the hall.

Lucy was charging into the apartment, concerned and anxious. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Look here," McClane began, but Lucy brushed right past him to go down the hall, right to the smaller bedroom.

"Matt," she sounded relieved when she saw him in bed, alive and in one piece. "Thank goodness, you're all – what the hell happened to your face?"

A moment later, she sat on the edge of the bed, gently turning his face to look at the bruise.

"I – I fell into the bureau," Matt said.

Lucy glared at her father who had stepped into the doorway. "You pushed him into a bureau? Dad, you have to stop trying to kill my boyfriends!"

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend?" McClane challenged. "That other jerk in the car – he was just the guy with his hands under your shirt?"

Lucy pressed her lips together. "Matt, Dad and I are going to have talk. You go to sleep and I'll be in soon."

"Like hell you will," McClane thundered. "You are not sleeping with him under my roof."

"I'll sleep with him wherever I like," his daughter shot back.

"Maybe I should leave," Matt began to get out of the bed.

"Stay still!" both McClane and Lucy snapped at him. Matt immediately leaned back against the pillow, looking very uncomfortable.

"We're going to talk," Lucy stood up decidedly. She leaned over the bed, pressing her lips against Matt's for a second.

"Lucy, living room," McClane said sternly.

Matt wished she would stay with him longer, but she went towards the hallway, shaking her head in exasperation at her father.

McClane reached out to snap off the overhead light-switch. "I'll wake you in a few hours," he told Matt. And then he shut the door, leaving the bedroom dark except for the street lights glowing through the window.

Matt lay in the bed, listening for voices, but he heard nothing except the low hum of the bathroom fan. He wished he were brave enough to barge into the living room, grab Lucy, and march out of the apartment in defiance. But McClane being McClane . . . Matt rolled on his right side so as not to hurt his bruises and shut his eyes.

He was not sure who would win out. They were both so stubborn, but Matt hoped they would both reach a decision that did not involve throwing him out on the street.


	5. Kitchen

"Oh, my gosh, Dad," Lucy stomped into the kitchen and slammed herself down in the chair next to the table, "why do you have to control everything?"

"I'm your father – I'm looking out for you," McClane frowned. "You need a guy who can –"

"Take care of me? This is the 21st century – not Victorian England. I'm going to college - I'm going to get a job. I will be all right on my own."

"Of course, you will. You're my daughter, and your mother and I raised you to be independent. You're smart and capable, and you'll do fine."

"So wait a minute," Lucy shook her head in the same exaggerated way she had done as a teenager. "One minute I need a big strong guy to take care of me, and the next I'm fine on my own?"

"That's not what I said," McClane crossed his arms. "You will do fine on your own. But . . . if you choose to be with someone, it has to be a guy who can take care of you, not someone you have to take care of."

Lucy had opened her mouth, furious, but she stopped, eyes going wide. "Dad, do you really think Matt is such a loser that I'm going to need to take care of him? He helped save your life and the whole country. How can you think so little of him?"

"I don't think he's a loser. I think he has a lot of growing up to do. He's like a little kid, a teenager, and he has no idea what to do with his future, and I can't have you with someone who's floundering."

McClane looked down at his hands, bracing himself for a fight. Lucy had a temper and she was stubborn. McClane had always pretended that the temper and the stubbornness had come from his ex-wife, but he knew Lucy was her father's daughter in every way. They would be screaming at each other in a few minutes.

To his absolute shock, Lucy lowered her head and covered her face as she started crying.

McClane froze, but she kept crying softly.

"Lucy, baby, no, honey, don't," McClane sat down beside her. He tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, expecting her to shake it off. But she dropped one of her hands and reached back to press her cold, slim fingers over his worn, calloused hand.

"Honey, you never cry. Tell me what's wrong. Please – tell me how I can help."

"You never listen," her voice was muffled under her remaining hand.

"No, I'll listen. I'm listening now. I won't say anything and I'll listen until you're done."

"You always interrupt and I don't get to finish."

"No, I won't interrupt," McClane moved closer. Had she been ten years younger he would have lifted her up and had her sit on his lap like when she was a little girl and he used to read her bedtime stories. "Just talk to me, baby. I'm right here, and I'm not going to interrupt."

Lucy gave a hoarse sob, but she wiped her face with both hands. "It's just that something – I'm like all – it's so – so . . ."

McClane braced himself for more young people talk – phrases that meant nothing, but kids had to say them just to get started. "Still listening," he patted her shoulder.

"I was so scared, Dad," two tears rolled down her cheeks. "There in the hospital. They were hooking you up to IVs and giving you blood, and the whole world was recovering from the fire sale. Matt's room was right next to yours, and once they sewed him up and put him in a wheelchair to rest his leg, I spent some time with him. He – he got stuck in the elevator because he couldn't operate the controls on the wheelchair. He laughed and said 'I can hack almost any program in the world, but I can't get this stupid chair to go anywhere.' I laughed and asked if he was good at video games, because then it would really be embarrassing. I helped him figure it out and we went to the cafeteria together."

More than anything McClane wanted to point out, _"See, you're taking care of him. I told you you'd have to."_ But he made himself stay quiet.

"He was really worried about you, too. And even once you were going to be okay, he kept saying that we should all sit down and get to know each other, but I said no. I wanted to get to know him without you there to control every little thing. The first night he stayed at my place he was a nervous wreck –"

"You two slept together?" McClane stiffened.

"You promised you wouldn't interrupt."

"That was before I knew he slept with you," McClane stood. "I'm going to break his neck, the lying, scheming, horny bastard."

"Daddy, sit down!" the old Lucy was back, her voice sharp and commanding. "We are both adults and if I want to sleep with someone I can. I can sleep with anyone I choose to, just like you did at my age."

McClane reluctantly lowered himself into the chair. "I did not whore around at your age."

Lucy flushed, but she kept her eyes and voice steady. "Did you really think I was a virgin at my age?"

"Yes! Well, okay, no, but still . . . I'm your dad."

Lucy's face softened. "Actually . . . Matt was my first."

The entire kitchen seemed to stop. The ticking clock was like a counting bomb as McClane stared at her.

"What?"

"I know it's stupid," she shrugged, blushing even more. "But I needed my first time to be special, and everyone else was okay, but kind of lame, you know. Matt was surprised, too, and he said if I had waited this long then I was probably waiting for marriage and he offered to propose, but I said not now. He was really sweet and gentle –"

"Lucy, some things a father doesn't need to hear."

"I'm in love with him," she placed a hand over the base of her throat, and she looked so young and in love that McClane stared at her as if she were a stranger. "I'm in love with him, Daddy. And I need you to be okay with this, because if you aren't, then I have to choose between you. I can't choose. Dad, please," she grabbed both of his hands, "don't make me choose. Ten years from now, I want to be able to introduce my children to their father and their grandfather, and have both men stand in the same room without hating each other. That's all I'm asking."

"Jesus, Lucy," McClane slumped in the chair, still holding her hands. "I mean, damn it all to hell tonight, springing this on me."

She smiled. "You're swearing so you must be halfway okay. You don't have to be really okay with this tonight. I should have told you, but I didn't know how I felt about Matt until the other day. He called to ask if he should cut his hair or not, and I blurted it out over the phone. There was a two second pause that lasted forever, and then he said he loved me, too."

McClane dropped her hands. "He had to think before he said it back? He's dead now."

"Dad, Dad, no," Lucy was laughing even though her eyes had filled with tears again. "Don't you see how much potential he has? He told me everything – that before he met you, he didn't care about anyone except himself and now he's so different. He wants to work in the government and make it a better place. He talks about the future as a time when the world will be better because he cares enough to change himself for the better."

"Never be with someone who wants you to change them," McClane shook his head. "You are asking for a world of heartache that way."

"But I don't care if he changes," she smiled, almost shyly. "I love him for who he is now – awkward, goofy, geeky, clumsy, Star-Wars-loving bozo with a good heart. That's enough for me."

"But it's not enough for me."

Lucy's eyes began to fill with tears again, but McClane leaned forward. "No, baby, don't cry. I need a while to think about it. Matt's going to be staying here for a few days, and I want to have some talks with him."

Lucy tensed. "You had a talk tonight, and he got conked on the face. Can I trust you not to hurt him?"

"We'll just talk, no beatings," McClane promised. "I want you to stay over for tonight. Do you have class tomorrow?"

"No, it's the weekend. I can stay for a few days. We'll all three get to know each other better. Have you been taking care of yourself since the hospital?"

"Yes," McClane lied, but she had already stood up and opened the fridge.

"Dad! There's nothing healthy in here. You're worse than Matt about taking care of yourself. Are those corndogs?"

"Protein," he sunk down in his seat a little.

"Ding-Dongs?"

"Carbs. Lucy, this is my place and I can eat whatever –"

She shut the fridge and frowned at him. "I'm going to the grocery store for healthy food."

"It's after nine," he protested, but she reached for her purse.

"Curfew isn't until midnight," she said, referring to the nation-wide curfew that the government had established to prevent looting and crimes against those who couldn't protect themselves. "The store isn't four blocks from here. I'll be back in thirty minutes. I have forty items left on this week's rations."

"Here, mine has seventy," McClane handed her the plastic card that the police had distributed to keep the public from hoarding food. Farms and factories were back to working again, and no one was going hungry, but only because the authorities had monitored it carefully to prevent an economic crisis. The first month had been the roughest, but the country was committed to rebuilding, and intel and products were returning slowly.

"Thanks," she took it.

McClane sat in the kitchen once she was gone. He gazed off into space, remembering the days when she was in bed by this time, times when she needed a nightlight to keep the "Creepers" away which referred to some monster movie that Jack had shown her. It seemed ridiculous that she should live away from him, completely on her own in college. The idea that she could be in love with the bum down the hallway seemed beyond belief.

McClane got up from the chair and went down the hall. He opened the bedroom door, and Matt stirred on the bed, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"What? What's going on?"

"Lucy's gone to the store," McClane crossed his arms. "She told me that you two slept together."

Matt was too sleepy to be properly terrified, but he half-sat up and protested, "No, we agreed not to tell you until the time was right."

"And when would the time be right?" McClane's face hardened.

"On my deathbed. Or hers. Or yours, but someone would need to be dying. Oh, no!" Matt ducked under the covers as McClane strode to the bed. "Don't kill me. She initiated it. Oh, jeez, I'm dead."

"Shut up," McClane ordered. "I have two questions to ask and depending on how you answer, you get to sleep in this nice bed or you get hung by your ankles from the window."

Matt peeked his head out of the covers. "I'm listening."

"Do you love my daughter?"

"Yes?" Matt's answer was tentative, but at McClane's growing outrage, he amended, "Yes, of course, I do."

"Are you willing to do whatever I require to make you worthy of my daughter?"

Matt pushed himself to his elbows. "I'm – I'm not worthy? After everything we did together? I'm not worthy?"

The kid's eyes glassed, and McClane knew he was in danger of witnessing tears for the second time in an hour.

"Right now, you're the only person who I would let touch my daughter without breaking his neck. But that doesn't mean you're ready to get her. You have a lot to work on kid. I haven't decided what all you're going to work on, but I'll know by the morning. Do you agree to that?"

"What am I agreeing to?"

"For the next few months, while you're getting to know your new job, you live here with me and follow my rules to the letter. I'm going to train you, groom you, and make you into a man who can take care of my daughter and ensure that she will be safe and happy. Do you agree to that?"

Matt blinked and glanced around the room, trying to digest what he had just heard. "Train me? Like a dog?"

"No, like a soldier. A cop, or warrior, or whatever you want to call it. At the same time, we'll go over money management and home repair and other types of skills that you'll need to know in order not to screw up your marriage. I'll teach you everything that I should have known to save my own marriage."

"And I get to stay here?" Matt looked him straight in the eye. "We're going to be roommates?"

"No, you're staying here as a guest, and after a week of my training, you'll be a very unhappy, probably ungrateful guest."

"I won't," Matt leaned back on the pillow. "I'll be good, even great, at whatever you want me to do. I really do love Lucy."

"Then you agree?" McClane put out his hand.

The kid took it with an eagerness that made McClane almost roll his eyes. "Get some sleep, kid."

"Why?" Matt yawned. "Am I going to need it?"

"You have no idea," McClane went out and shut the door, wearing a wry smile, almost a smirk. The kid had no idea what he had just agreed to.


End file.
